I Woke Up

And a few things occurred to me. Firstly, there existed a flying pussy that tasted like sour plum candy when I kissed it, and Greg agreed. Secondly, if I spend enough time with any guy I knew right out from the UK, I inevitably end up using ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’ more then I normally would. And (thirdly) I think it’s absolutely acceptable to use it on everyone else.

So being the idiot that I am, I used it on Martine. Who generally doesn’t take obscenity very well, or me getting drunk and flashing my panties around or very much bad behaviour that most teenagers should be allowed.

And this was when the fourth thing occurred to me. I don’t need this. It’s not his fault, it’s never anyone’s fault when things don’t work out, unless one individual is maniac depressive and adores melancholy 24 hours a day. But I don’t need this. Somewhere along the line, things became pointless. I don’t love him anymore for who he is, or the time we get to spend with each other. I’m not in love anymore, I’m crazed, period. The more he tells me to shove off, the more it becomes and end in itself, and that wasn’t why I so greatly adored him in the first.

I love him because he’s kind (tries to be to me, and definitely is to Liz) and because he’s honest. But I can’t sit around trying to understand his feelings all the time without him trying to understand mine. Has he ever tried? I’m sure he has, but we all have our own shitty problems, and his are bigger then mine, and I know it. Only, I’m really not expecting very much at all. All I ask is that he meets me for a few hours, make love to me, offer me tea and talk about life for awhile. Once a week. That’s all!

I feel such a great pressure because I know there aren’t a lot of people like him. I’ve slept, dated and loved a significant number of people, and there really aren’t many end up having really good chemistry with. Have you ever read a love story that wasn’t problematic? I’m not even twenty, of course I’m supposed to have problematic love relationships; problematic relationships are, as much as we wish they didn’t’ exist, are fun.

I’m tired, and I’m hurt, but we all have to move on and just wait for good things to come our way, and not let them go when they do.

If there’s one thing I have to thank him for, it’s making me feel again. Really, really feel for someone. Just because the person is who he is. Not because I need him, not because I’ve made him responsible for anything that went on in my life… And right now, if I want him, it’ll be for all the wrong reasons, and I don’t wish to ruin what he had done for me.

And at the end of the day, at least he’s inspired me to make some very good art.

xoxox